


Have Courage

by UnknownLeaf



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Depression, Fluff, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-30 23:29:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20105398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnknownLeaf/pseuds/UnknownLeaf
Summary: Dwight doubts his worth as a leader. Claudette is there to reassure him.





	Have Courage

**Author's Note:**

> A fluffy, and potentially cheesy, take on how Claudette pulls Dwight out of his bout of depression and self-pity.

Instead of returning to the campfire as per the norm, Dwight lingers in the vast wilderness. He staggers every which way while stumbling over the occasional tree root. He has no set destination in mind and is merely content to wander around aimlessly after the events that had recently transpired. Dwight ventures forth until he catches sight of a lonely, collapsed tree trunk lying on the ground. It is almost cruel to look upon. A once proud and mighty tree now reduced to a former shadow of itself as its kin continues to grow without a care. Dwight feels a touch disgusted at how similar his predicament is to that of a decaying log. Both he and the fallen trunk have no reason for existing in the shameful way that they do save for acting as a mockery to the rest of their kind. At least the log still had a use as a makeshift piece of furniture. He, on the other hand, is of no use to anyone or anything.

His last trial against The Trapper had gone poorly. Despite his best efforts, he ended up being the sole survivor while his friends were slaughtered or sacrificed. All of his friends performed flawlessly during the trial. Whether it was repairing generators, or baiting the killer, or healing one another. Everything they did, every action and every reaction, benefited the team for the better. Dwight however was incapable of doing anything right. He always ruined repair work, touching the wrong wires together during peak moments and then watching the killer regress the progress further with a swift smack to the machine. He initiated chases only to be downed within mere minutes, and as he swung from a hook and watched his teammates struggle to save him, he felt an overwhelming sense of guilt. On top of that, he was incapable of healing anyone without adding more injury than relief. He would wrap the gauze too loosely or fail to clean wounds properly.

It was not like he was purposely setting out to screw over his teammates, but nothing he ever did worked. If only he had useful qualities like the others then maybe things would have been different. He brought nothing to the table and it showed in each trial he participated in. Life was cruel, and living in this place was no exception to that statement.

Dwight is currently sitting on the downed tree trunk, his glasses resting on his forehead as he hides his face in his filthy palms. Nothing ever changes, whether in this world or in his home world.

Before this place, he tried his damnedest to change himself for the better. To live a life worth living, a life that he was able to take pride in. However, rejection after rejection wore down his already waning determination until it practically disappeared altogether. Why strive to better yourself, be more than what you were, when the whole world was against you being a part of it? He began declining promising opportunities, fearing the likely rejection that they may bring. He avoided things that interested him, fearing that he was too inferior to even consider such aspects. After scoring his dead-end job, he finally gave up on himself, fearing that if he continued to pursue unobtainable goals then he would only set himself up for failure. Hopes and dreams became a distant memory as he merely went through the motions of day-to-day living. A lacklustre life, as dull and colourless as murky dishwater, to match his depressive and skittish attitude. Dwight became a coward; it was as simple as that. He saved himself by destroying himself, as twisted as that logic was, and there seemed to be no way to turn back now.

The sound of a twig snapping jostled him from his internal contemplation. What could that be? A bird perhaps or a friend. What if it was a killer? Was it even possible for one of those blood-thirsty psychos to show up here? Maybe he should duck behind one of the trees just to be on the safe side.

“H-Hello?” Dwight nervously calls out into the near darkness, his hands wrinkling his shirt as he fists the filthy fabric.

“Hello Dwight,” Claudette greets warmly as she emerges from a thick patch of fog.

“Oh,” Dwight voices, not expecting anyone to find him in the middle of nowhere. “Umm, hey.”

The botanist creeps closer to the other while respecting his personal space. Her read of the situation is perfect, as always. What he would not give to possess her intuition.

“Are you hurt?” she questions in a worried tone, a dainty hand slightly outstretching towards him.

“N-No,” he stammers out, “I’m fine.”

Claudette gives the male a frown, clearly not accepting his words. As if witnessing a sort of silent permission in his eyes, she moves to take a seat beside him. “You don’t look fine,” Claudette says after inspecting his dishevelled appearance. “What’s wrong?”

Dwight sighs while pulling his glasses back down to rest properly on his nose. There is no point in hiding anything from the botanist or, rather, he did not have the heart to. Her kindness and gentle nature is unmatched by any other person from their group of survivors. Shutting her out would only add to his guilty conscious but perhaps admitting his true feelings aloud may cleanse it. At the very least, they could discuss proper candidates to replace him as the designated leader.

“I’m useless,” Dwight declares evenly.

Claudette looks immediately offended with his declaration and tries to say, “You’re n—”

“I’m a pathetic excuse for a leader,” Dwight resumes without allowing for her to finish, “I-I don’t deserve to be the leader of this group. I never did.”

“Of course you do,” the botanist tries to convince the male.

“No I don’t,” Dwight asserts, his voice raising a decibel or two as his frustration becomes more pronounced. “I bring nothing to the team. I’m not strong or brave. I’m not fast or stealthy. Fuck,” he curses while waving his arms in the air, “I can’t even repair one generator without sparking a wire.”

Another frown begins to form on Claudette’s face as she quietly assures, “You don’t need those qualities to be a leader.”

“A real leader wouldn’t run or hide. They would stand their ground and fight for what they wanted or believed in.”

“Hmm,” Claudette hums then remains quiet for a moment. She appears to be in deep thought, her brows scrunching together as her eyes focus on one particular spot on the ground. Then she smiles once more and turns to address him, her stunning gaze causing his heart to skip a beat. Why was he so nervous all of a sudden?

“That’s one definition of a leader. And you’re right, you’re not _that_ leader. You’re a different kind of leader, and so much more besides.”

After a second of pondering, Dwight concludes that the botanist makes a decent point. A leader has many diverse meanings to a variety of different people. Though he is convinced Claudette is saying these things only as a means of lifting his spirits, and he cannot help but say, “You’re just trying to make me feel better.”

“You’re wrong,” she utters without hesitation, her eyes shining as those beautiful orbs glisten with unshed tears.

“Please Claud, you don’t have to do this.” Please do not lie for my sake. All of the people here already do that after he participates in a trial. He is aware of their good intentions yet their words consistently have the opposite effect on him. Self-pity is one thing but receiving pity from everyone else is too much to bear.

“Dwi—”

“I should just get myself killed the second I step into a trial. Save everyone the trouble before I end up killing them.”

Claudette shakes her head sadly and then takes a hold of his hand and cradles it gently between her soft palms. Dwight realizes that the botanist is now crying, her coffee-coloured eyes shimmering in the dull light as tears streak down her cheeks. Great; now he feels even worse for upsetting her.

Squeezing his hand lightly, the botanist manages to say, “Don’t you see? We’re a strong team because of you. You unite us together. You try so hard and sacrifice yourself for us. We’d be nothing without you.”

“No,” Dwight disagrees and removes his hand from her grasp, “you’d all be better off without me. I just can’t be the fearless leader you guys want me to be.”

“No one's asking you to be fearless,” she affirms and presses a hand atop her chest. “We’re all scared Dwight. Some of us just hide that fear better than others.”

“I’m still no leader,” he quietly yet adamantly defends.

“You can be.”

“I-I can’t. I just can’t,” Dwight finishes despondently without meeting her eyes. He is a coward, and always will be. No force in this world could change that simple fact. Why could nobody understand that?

The botanist reaches into the leather pouch attached to her belt and states, “I know you can.”

Claudette tousles the short hair next to his ear and then proceeds to give him a gentle peck on the cheek. The contact has Dwight stiffening in surprise and his cheeks flush several shades of red.

The botanist removes her soft lips and gives the male an affectionate pat on the knee then says, “You just need a little confidence.”

She offers Dwight one final heartfelt smile before wiping away her watery eyes and retreating into the sea of trees.

Dwight sits there for a moment trying to reign in his galloping heart. It is racing so strongly, as if he ran a thousand miles or injected a dose of epinephrine into his system. Although, admittedly, the sensation is not entirely unpleasant. Unexpected for sure but welcome all the same.

Something begins to itch near his ear and he goes to scratch it only for his fingers to graze a foreign object. Tugging it free, Dwight discovers the source of the itch to be a purple flower. Claudette must have placed it on him earlier. If he remembered correctly from the botanist’s teachings, this specific flower was an iris. He cradles the small flower in his hands while offering the silent plant a friendly smile. A finger delicately touches a petal, revelling in its softness as it trails from base to tip. How such a thing could flourish in a dreary place like this is truly incredible. This tiny treasure is proof that perseverance is worth something, and if this flower could do the seemingly impossible than so to could he.

His face reddened for a second time when his thoughts drift to the feeling on Claudette’s lips against his skin. Holding the flower in one hand, he raises the other to touch his kissed cheek. Perhaps he too could find the courage to blossom into a beautiful flower as well. In time.


End file.
